A Journey Retold
by irisanddaisy
Summary: A conversation I thought should have happened after A Journey Remembered.


A conversation I thought should have happened after A Journey Remembered.

It was a rare quiet night in the great room, with all three brothers sitting around the fire. Pa had gone off to bed early, since he had a long trip to San Francisco tomorrow. Adam was reading, as usual. Joe was dozing on the couch, opening an eye once in a while to peep at Hoss, who was staring into the fireplace with a strange amount of intensity.

The silence was comfortable, soothing. Hoss took a deep breath. "Adam," he said quietly.

His older brother looked up. There was something noticeable in the big man's tone. "What is it, Hoss?"

"Paw found somethin' today in the barn outta one of those trunks while I was waiting for that foal. It was a journal he wrote…while we were comin' out west."

Adam lowered his book slowly, a look of familiarity coming over his face. "Did he? I'd forgotten about that. I do remember him writing during that trip. He'd duck into the wagon right before going to bed and jot down a few lines here and there. I didn't know he still had it."

"Adam, you were old enough to remember that, weren't you."

A wry expression came over his face, followed quickly by a much more solemn one. "It's not something you easily forget, even as a child." Adam paused, reflecting. "Actually, maybe it's because I was that age that I do remember it so well."

"What do you remember, Adam? About…my mother?"

Adam looked at Hoss, who was avoiding his gaze and continuing to stare into the fire. It was a question Hoss had never asked him before, and Adam had always wondered why. Maybe because Marie had been such a loving mother to them, but in some ways had taken a particular shine to the burly yet gentle boy that Hoss had been. But now he was asking.

Adam put his book down with a quiet sigh and thought. "Well, she was pretty remarkable. I was sick when Pa first met her, and she was taking care of me. She was very patient—direct, but also mild, and sweet." He chuckled a bit, not noticing as Hoss turned to look at him. "She didn't take a lot of guff from Pa or anyone else, that's for sure. She spoke her mind. But there was a kind of lilt to her voice that made even angry words from her seem…okay, somehow. Like you knew she loved you and would take care of you, even when she was mad."

Joe peered up at his oldest brother cautiously so as not to draw attention. He'd never heard Adam speak this much of his first stepmother before, and there was a kind of mild tone in his voice that was unusual.

Hoss let out of breath. "It sounded like you all went thought a fair amount of hell out there."

"Oh, I don't know." Adam looked into the firelight and smiled slightly. "When you're a child, everything new is exciting. You could play with the other children, run after the wagons, or sit and watch the country go by. And…we were a family. Pa and I needed her, and with her there everything was a bit sunnier, even on days that were the most dusty and tedious." Adam looked over at Hoss and grinned. "And don't forget you were there for the journey too, little brother. I remember holding you for hours while Mamman drove the horses."

A wistful look came over Hoss's face. "Mamman? Is that what you called her?"

Adam looked surprised, as if he hadn't thought about that in a very long time. "Yes. Right before she and Pa got married, that very morning, I think, she pulled me aside and said, 'Adam, I need to have a little talk with you. You know your father and I are getting married.' Of course I did, they'd been talking about little else for the last two or three weeks, and I'd never seen Pa so happy, or jittery. She held my shoulders and looked me in the eye and said, 'Dear Adam, you're such a good boy. I know you hold the thought of your own mother close to you, and I don't ever want that to change. But I would be very happy if you could call me mamman, which is Swedish for mother.' She looked so hopeful that I wouldn't have said no, even if I had an issue with it. Which I didn't."

There was silence for a little bit. Joe tried to imagine Adam as a 5 year old at Hoss's mother's wedding and was having a hard time of it, when Hoss's voice was heard again, lower this time. "Do you remember…when she died?"

"I remember."

"Did you see it happen?"

"I saw it."

"Tell me about it Adam. I think I need to know."

Adam let out a breath. Surely Pa had written about it. Hoss had probably heard it today. But maybe he needed to be sure of the facts from another witness. "Of course you do." Adam glanced over to see Joe sitting up silently, listening. Hoss was looking straight at him too.

"The lot of us were holed up in a way station. We were holding off a group of Indians that were after one of our members for killing a brave." For some reason the memories were coming back, more vivid than they'd been in decades. "Everyone was quiet, the men were loading their weapons. It seemed like we'd been waiting in silence forever. And then we heard shooting, and the braves coming for us. Pa pushed Mamman and me into a corner. Mamman had me sit on the floor, and sat on a stool next to me, holding you all wrapped up. I couldn't see much, but the gunfire went on for a while on both sides. Then Mamman got up, and handed me over to you. She touched my cheek for a second…" Adam's hand came up unconsciously to the left side of his jaw. "Gave me a look, and then went toward the guns. I didn't know why she did that until I saw one of the men crawling to the back of the room and realized she must have picked up a gun to continue the fight."

He paused again, remembering the sharp blasts of gunfire, the weight of the quiet baby in his arms. Even as an infant Hoss managed to sleep through almost anything. Adam looked up to see both brothers still watching him. "And then…" he looked into the fire, not being able to maintain Hoss's eye. "I saw her turn, and fall, with an arrow in her back. Pa looked at me, I must've called out to him, although I don't remember it. One of the other men broke the arrow off at the base, and Pa ran to her and turned her over." Adam cleared his throat suddenly. "She was obviously in some pain, but knew she was dying. She spoke of the baby, said my name." He stopped again, surprised that he had to swallow hard before continuing. "She said she could see snow on top of the mountains. I don't know if she was seeing the land we'd be coming to, or the mountains of her homeland in Sweden, but she looked happy. And then she died." He looked up at Hoss, who was almost impassive, but with a sadness in his eyes. "It was very quick. She died with Pa holding her, with love in her heart, pretty much as she had lived."

Joe looked at Adam's grave expression, imagining it on a small boy clutching a baby—who almost unbelievably turned into Hoss—as he watched the only mother he'd ever known dying right in front of him. Knowing Adam, he'd have borne it all quietly even then, as much out of shock as anything else. He glanced at Hoss and they exchanged a look, as if sharing that idea. Adam's drive to be the domineering big brother at all costs had probably started right there on the floor of that station. Joe had always known, but for the first time really _realized_, that Adam's bossiness wasn't really an act of superiority. It was an almost primal desire to keep his family safe.

Adam looked back at his brothers, whose eyes each held an odd combination of understanding, sympathy, and gratitude. They were a funny little family, weren't they. What they didn't share in mothers they more than made up for in the land they worked and the losses they'd suffered together. Joe got up silently and walked over to the tray holding the bottle of whiskey. He poured three shots and handed two of them to his brothers before taking one himself and raising his glass. Hoss looked at him, then at his older brother. "Thank you, Adam," he said simply.


End file.
